Both Sides, Now
by Alone in the Desert
Summary: Two gods viewing the mortal their daughter fell in love with what Sarra and Numair have to say to each other. Standalone


Both Sides, Now 

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Disclaimer: All characters and locations herein are the property of Tamora Pierce. Plot and actual written words owned by me. In addition, the story's title is taken from a song by the same name, property of Joni Mitchell. 

Having been removed bodily from the Mortal Realms, his life spared unexpectedly, the curious creatures that assaulted him destroyed by a divine badger and his lurching travel sickness treated by a hedgewitch-turned-goddess' potions, Numair Salmalín was confused. Fascinated, but confused. Satisfied that his once-student, Daine, was well and safe, Numair explored within his limits. 

"I'd feared he would want to go traipsing about, exploring," the hunter god Weiryn said to his mate, "in that silly, scholarly way of his." 

Sarra the midwife goddess nodded. "He seems to find our home fair interesting, so all is well." The mortal mage had been staring, raptured, at the sky for over an hour. 

"Is it?" wondered Weiryn, frowning. "I never thought my kit would come visiting for the first time with a man-sized shoelace in tow." 

Sarra's brook-blue eyes were reproachful. "You'd _hoped_ she's bring home a hunter," she accused. 

"Better than to suit _your_ wishes and marry a farmer," he countered. 

Sarra huffed, crossing her arms over her apron. 

"I'd thought, from what I'd seen, she'd choose a wolf over a stork," Weiryn went on. 

"You're being too harsh on the man, love," insisted Sarra lightly, but a smile was tugging at her lips. 

"I mean, I know she saw giraffes in Carthak," rambled the god, "but I hadn't noticed she'd taken _such_ a liking to them." 

Unable to hold back any longer, Sarra giggled, her hand on Weiryn's arm, pulling him inside the cottage. "Hush! We don't need him to hear this!" 

"Whyever not?" he objected. "It may do him some good…" 

Daine was asleep, and Numair was examining the herbs in Sarra's kitchen garden. Sarra, stepping out of the cottage, took care not to interrupt his thoughts. 

The woman -- the goddess -- seemed to step out of Daine's tales of her. She was tall, rosy-skinned, round-faced, with faint laugh lines around her eyes and a mouth made for smiling. She wore a long, bright blue skirt, the full sleeves of her green blouse tied at the elbows with pink ribbons, and many kinds and colors of flowers were embroidered on the rim of her apron. She seemed a interested in him as he was in her. 

"I hope you're finding your stay in the Divine Realms enlightening," said Sarra with a kind smile. 

"Thank you, I am," replied the ever-cordial mage. "This is a rare opportunity of learning I have gotten." 

"True," agreed the goddess, "yet you seem so eager to return to the perils of your own realm." 

"My perils are the perils of the ones I love," Numair said quietly. 

"Speaking of love," said Sarra directly, "you've gotten my Daine into a fair amount of danger, these past few years." Her eyes bored into his, unflinching, unrelenting. 

Numair blushed, looking down at his hands. 

"And I love her," Daine's mother went on. 

"I never wished Daine any harm," said Numair earnestly, still looking at his hands. "She saved my life." 

"I know," replied Sarra softly. 

"It was necessary for her to walk into danger so many times," argued the mage. "We never demanded less from ourselves. Not me, nor the king or queen, none of the ones who put her in harm's way." 

"I know," Sarra echoed. 

"And now…" Numair's voice was grave and desperate. 

"What now?" the goddess challenged mildly. 

"Every day counts," the mortal went on bravely. 

"She is needed?" 

"Yes." 

Sarra looked at Numair, whose stomach turned from the unshakable feeling that he was standing trial at some strange court. 

He argued his case in a quiet, civil tone. "When she dies, you will have her for eternity. You can spare her for the next sixty years." 

She was quiet, leaning her chin on her hands, examining the mortal that sat before her. Oh, his motives were _far_ from pure, that much was clear. But would he hurt her baby? She doubted it. 

"Perhaps," she said finally, her expression a puzzle. Four years in the Divine Realms did not give a woman a god's patience. 

Numair remained alone in the kitchen garden, where darkness fell inexorable as the tide. She _is_ needed," he insisted to no one in particular, his voice a whisper. 


End file.
